The Spider and the Fly
by ZeroInvador
Summary: Widowmaker's conditioning is fraying around the edges, missing shots, remembering locked away memories and regaining feelings. Tracer reckons her old friend is savable, so of course, she worms her way in. WidowTracer. Slowburn-ish. Rated M for later chapters. More characters in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Another day, another battle against Overwatch.

Looking up at the sky she realised it was a rather sunny day in King's Row. _That might be a problem,_ she thought. She huffed, a small twinge of annoyance hit her before fading. The sun glinting off of her gun would minimise her chances of staying out of sight for long. _Stick to the shadows._

 _At least the air is still, that is something._

Returning to the location of her last assassination brought a smile to her lips. Tekhartha Mondatta had been an interesting target, she noticed a large, golden statue had been erected in the middle of the square in his honour. The omni leader of the Shambali would have been an easy kill, if it hadn't been for a persistent little _fly_ buzzing around her. The Overwatch agent known as 'Tracer' had been a particularly sharp thorn in her side for far too long.

"Tch."

Widowmaker took in her surroundings, trying to scope out the tallest vantage points that would give her the advantage over the enemy team, her eyes darting back and forth over the high buildings. She knew she would need more than one, it wasn't wise to stay in the same place for long.

Using her grappling hook, Widowmaker swung; flipping gracefully up and perching herself atop of the watchtower, overlooking the square. Below she witnessed her team mates securing the payload and putting up defences, she herself shooting her venom mine at the only entrance to her nest. If anyone decided to pay her a visit… She smirked cruelly. _Too easy._

Narrowing her eyes at the enemy spawn points, she took aim with her Widows Kiss and waited patiently. Patience came easily to a trained Assassin, and Widowmaker was one of the best.

" _One shot, one kill"._

She rolled her shoulders, working out the kinks that resided there. Breathing slowly and lining up her shot, she looked through her scope to see the enemy doors opening. A small smile played on her lips as she saw her opportunity to headshot a couple of the Overwatch agents below.

" _I see you"._

A small laugh and a familiar whoosh of a chronal accelerator interrupted her thoughts and wiped the smile off of her face. She whipped around, activating her visor. She should have known _Tracer_ would find her way up here, even without triggering her venom mine.

She swore in French.

After the fiasco at the museum, she knew she shouldn't have underestimated the young woman. While her last assassination had been completed, Tracer had proven herself to be a worthy opponent, someone to match her speed and skills. It hadn't been particularly easy to kill the omnic leader with her enemy buzzing around her like an insect.

"Where are you, _Chérie_ …?" Widowmaker crooned.

Eyes narrowed and gun at the ready, she cautiously searched around the watchtower corners, looking for any tell tale sign that the _annoyance_ was around. She had a way of getting under her skin, unlike anyone else. Small snippets of emotion made themselves present around the young woman, something she wasn't fond of.

"Psst. Lookin' for me, love?" She felt hot breath as a voice whispered next to the shell of her ear.

Eyes widened in surprise, but only a little before returning to her emotionless expression. _Merde_. She hadn't even heard the girl approaching. Straightening up and deactivating her visor, she slowly turned around to face the bubbly Brit with an eyebrow raised.

She looked the same as ever, clad in her pilot jacket and horrid yellowy orange leggings. The device strapped to her chest illuminated her freckled face in the semi-dark room, showing the ever playful look on her soft features.

Although the assassin was deadly up close as she was at range, she knew a fight wouldn't be the best option to her. She could deal much more damage through her scope rather than at close quarters, and judging from their previous fights, she was sure the Overwatch agent knew this.

Her lips curled slightly, appearing completely calm. "Is there something you need from me?"

Tracer frowned at the blue skinned woman. There was something mischievous behind her calm expression and she didn't like it one bit.

"Oi watch it, love. No funny business or I'll shoot!" Snapping a pistol out of one of her gauntlets, she dug it under the other woman's chin to emphasise her threat.

Widowmaker didn't even flinch.

Slowly she leant down, towering over the shorter woman. "You won't shoot me, _amour'"._ She stated, a small amount of amusement made itself present at how it made the other woman falter.

The shorter woman huffed and squinted at the assassin. "You seem awfully confident. Why's that?"

"Because," She placed her hand over Tracer's; slowly dragging the gun down the dip of her bodysuit and between the valley of her breasts until it reached the V of her armour near her navel, noticing how the brunette's eyes followed with it. "You would have done so by now".

That comment left Tracer completely stumped. She was right, why _hadn't_ she shot Widowmaker? She'd had plenty of opportunities to do so.

Their little fights had turned into a game of cat and mouse, neither knowing who fit which role. Something of a dance really, carefully choreographed and neither shooting to kill, only disarm.

It was also _fun_ getting a reaction from the normally stoic Assassin. Sending cocky quips back and forth, Tracer got a right kick out of that.

The ex-pilot grinned, answer at the ready.

"Same could be said for you. You could've shot me that night you killed Mondatta. So why didn't you?"

She looked proud of herself. _Insolent little…_

"Ah, one of my finest kills, no?" She noticed with some satisfaction that Tracer twitched in annoyance. "Alas, you were not my target, Chérie".

"Tha's not the point".

Widowmaker cocked her head to the side. "Is it not? You asked and I answered".

Tracer scoffed. "Am I your target _now_ then?"

Silence greeted her question as Widowmaker struggled for an answer. She actually felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the Overwatch agent's gaze. The girl was asking some worrying questions, questions she didn't have answers to.

It bothered her, but she couldn't understand why.

Quick as a whip, she grabbed the front of Tracer's jacket and yanked her forward, drawing the small dagger from her thigh belt and holding it against the girl's throat before she could react. Hearing a gasp from the woman told her she hadn't been expecting it.

They were at a stalemate, Tracer's gun digging more persistently into her middle while her own blade dug into the woman's artery.

The voices in her head were screaming at her to finish the job, kill her now. _Kill her_. _Do it. It's what you're programmed for._ Tracer's pulse beat wildly under her blade. She shook her head to clear it, blocking them out. She knew why she hadn't killed her. This silly girl had brought out more of her emotions, made her _feel._

Dare she say it… The playful Brit made her feel _ALIVE._

"If you were my target, _foolish girl_ ," Her eyes boring into the brunette's, noses almost brushing from how close their faces were. "You would be dead".

Releasing a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Tracer could feel her cheeks burn from the close proximity and Widowmaker's cool breath against her lips.

 _Still…_ She looked into the assassin's hard yellow eyes and saw something else there. An emotion she couldn't quite place. A mix of curiosity, excitement and a dash of… what?

Taking a chance, Tracer decided to play it cool. _Either I'll get some answers… or a sliced neck._ Though she could end up with a sliced neck either way. _Yep, might as well take my chances._

She let out a small laugh, hoping it didn't come across as too nervous as she looked up at the French woman. "Maybe you just like me too much, yeah?"

Now _that_ got a surprising reaction from the stoic assassin.

Widowmaker blinked.

Was _that_ the real reason? She had to admit, the girl was a refreshing change from the usual enemies she fought against. The ex-pilot was quick and light on her feet, a hard target to shoot. Someone to match her skills. A challenge.

A challenge that she didn't want to kill just yet.

There was something else there however, albeit small. Something that made her slow heart clench painfully. The thought of anyone else killing the girl made her uneasy. She had even asked Reaper to hold back on the girl, in exchange for going easy on Morrison.

" _She is_ my _prey and you will not touch her. Mine"._

Slowly, as if curious, Widowmaker brought her dagger away from the girl's throat, replacing it with the soft pads of her cool fingers. A strong, steady pulse greeted them. Unhooking her fingers from Tracer's collar, she let her other hand travel between the girl's jacket opening, laying it flat against the flushed skin of her chest.

It was interesting to say the least. The contrast between their skin, the cool blue of hers against the warm pink of Tracer's was quite appealing. The feeling of the girl's beating heart felt like a fluttering bird itching to get out of a cage, and she reveled in it.

Startled out of her reverie, she felt that the gun pressing against her stomach was replaced by a single finger trailing up her torso, before a small hand rested over her own chest. A quizzical look passed over Tracer's face as she searched for the slow beat of Widowmaker's heart.

Easier said than done, but Tracer had managed to find it, the impossibly slow beat of a heart beneath her palm. She smiled widely as she looked up at the taller woman, pleased with herself.

It was slower than a normal functioning heart, but Widowmaker had felt how the beating had sped up slightly, at least as much as it was able to.

Though it was unnatural to her, Widowmaker felt the strange urge to give a small, genuine smile back to the shorter woman. It was enough to make her cheeks ache from her lack of facial expressions.

She caught the look on Tracer's face, an expression between surprise and utter delight, surprised when the girl raised a hand as if to touch before shying away.

"Wow…"

Widowmaker wasn't really sure what to do, other than indulge the girl… or she could kill her. She shook that thought from her head. _Not now._

She _was_ however interested to see where this would all lead to, if anywhere. Something small and warm settled in her chest as she looked down at spiky haired girl, who was still grinning widely up at her.

Talon was able to temporarily get rid of her emotions, but not erase them completely. She'd had to go through regular reconditioning in order to keep them in check, though something about the Brit had managed to tamper with Talon's masterpiece that was Widowmaker.

Reaching a hand out, she hooked her fingers underneath Tracer's goggles and lifted them from her freckled face, eager and impatient to see the eyes that were partially covered. Tracer whined, the goggles catching in her hair as they were tugged off of her face. Surprisingly, she felt a cool, gentle hand untangle the strap while pulling them completely over her head before tossing them aside. The hand in question began running itself through her unruly hair.

 _What're you doing... What's going on in your head?_

Tracer was curious to know what the taller woman was up to, her eyes searching the woman's face for clues. The assassin's face however remained quite impassive as she rubbed strands of windswept hair through her fingers.

She was like a curious child, learning the feel of something for the first time. Widowmaker marvelled at how soft and silky the hair beneath her fingertips felt. She noticed the curious eyes that looked up at her, as if questioning her actions.

Without her goggles, Widowmaker thought the girl looked younger, softer even. Her face looked naked without the sheet of orange covering her eyes.

She decided to indulge herself, taking the time to memorise all the little features of Tracer's face. Now that she could properly see her eyes, she started there, noticing tiny golden flecks of colour in her warm, brown irises that she wouldn't have seen with the goggles in the way. Next were the freckles that scattered across her flushed cheekbones, and fanning across a small upturned nose. Her sharp jaw line coming together to form a defined chin.

Finally, her eyes flicked back up to the last feature of Tracer's face, her lips. She'd heard all sorts of cocky quips exit those full pouty lips of hers, most of them directed at herself; her lips curled upwards at the thought.

Tracer decided to chance it again, she'd started to squirm under Widowmaker's unwavering gaze. She gave the taller woman a charming smile. "Oi, see somethin' you like, love?"

Pain shot through the assassin's neck as she was snapped out of her thoughts, jerking her head away so she wasn't looking at the laughing Brit. She hadn't realised how long she was staring at the girl. How long had they been there for?

She scowled at the wall to her side and ground out a harsh " _No"_ in response.

Still chuckling to herself, Tracer flitted around the woman while trying to get her attention. "Aw it's alright, most girls have the same reaction around me." she finished with a joking wink.

The French woman grimaced, still glaring daggers at the wall. "Ugh, _tais-toi, Chérie"._

Tracer grinned, almost skipping circles around the assassin. "Y'know I have no idea what you jus' said, but I totally dig it".

She debated on whether to get another reaction from the assassin. So far, her daring antics had been successful. _Now or never, right?_

Blinking forward, she closed the distance between them, lightly planting her lips against a cool blue cheek in a quick peck. Although cold, the cheek beneath her lips was smooth and delicate.

She pulled back, wanting to get a good look of the assassin's face. _Now that's a reaction._ Tracer noted.

Widowmaker's face was priceless, the shock at the unexpected kiss was evident in her features as she slowly turned to blink at the shorter girl, letting her fingers brush over the burning spot on her cheek that the girl's lips had left behind. Tracer had wondered if the woman would have blushed if she'd had a regular functioning blood flow.

The girl giggled. "Bloody hell, don't think I've ever seen you lookin' so surprised. Cat gotcha tongue?"

Widowmaker's eyes quickly narrowed. Does this girl _ever_ stop? Always with the cocky quips, it was enough to make her twitch in annoyance. She should kill the annoying fly.

Before she could answer with a retort however, an insistent beeping noise had drawn both of their attention to the small red light on Tracer's gauntlet.

She looked annoyed, even scowled at the beeping red light as she flicked it open to see who was contacting her. Honestly, she would have preferred to just let it ring. "Oh bugger me sideways... S'alright if I take this?" She looked to Widowmaker for confirmation, who waved her off in return. She brought the mic up to her face and accepted the call.

"Heya! You have... Impeccable timing. What's up?" She casually leaned against the closest wall, looking completely relaxed despite there being a trained assassin in the room.

" _Lena, where the hell have you been?! We've just secured the payload, the mission is finished. Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?"_

"I was-"

" _Honestly, Lena, we were worried about you!"_ Widowmaker could hear the worried voice on the other end of the call, a voice she recognised as the the Overwatch medic, Mercy.

"I'm totally fine! I was keeping a certain sniper busy," She looked over at Widowmaker, giving her a wink which earned her a raised eyebrow. "It's alright though, I totally won the battle, it was easy really".

She was grinning widely at the look on Widowmaker's annoyed face. She had pointed her rifle at her, as if daring her to keep talking, though Tracer knew she wouldn't shoot. That didn't mean that Widowmaker's trigger finger wasn't itching to however.

" _Widowmaker? She was here? And she didn't manage to hurt you?"_ Disbelief evident in Angela's voice. Tracer glanced over at the taller woman and frowned, Widowmaker smirked at that.

Tracer pouted "Do I detect some disbelief in your tone?"

" _Be careful, Lena. You know how dangerous she is. Even if Amélie is in there somewhere, she won't remember you"._

"Yes _mum,"_ Tracer huffed. "I'll be fine. Just trust me, yeah? I know what I'm doing".

 _Not exactly the truth but Angela doesn't need to know that... Besides, I'm doing some good here._

She ended the call and glanced over at Widowmaker, unsure of what to say. Though surprisingly, it was Widowmaker who broke the silence. The assassin must have heard the majority, if not all of the call that Tracer had and yet what she brought up surprised her.

"... Lena?" The name rolling off of the French woman's tongue in question. Somehow, it sounded familiar to her ears.

Tracer hesitated. Surely Talon already had a file on her with her name included, right? Judging from the slight curiosity in Widowmaker's expression, she was being genuine.

Was it wise to tell the enemy your real name? Was Widowmaker even the enemy anymore? Was Amélie in there somewhere, fighting to remember? Tracer wasn't so sure. Now that the assassin knew her first name, it made her feel uncomfortable, as if a part of her identity had been stripped bare.

It wasn't exactly easy for Lena to keep her identity a secret, what with the accelerator strapped to her chest. Finding clothes to fit over it _and_ block out the bright blue light was difficult at the best of times. _Still... This feels different._

She pushed herself off the wall and sighed. "You 'eared that, huh. I'm surprised you didn't already know, doesn't Talon have files on Overwatch agents?"

The French woman's nose wrinkled "Non, not as many as they would have liked."

Tracer's eared perked. _They? Interesting..._

"Could we... Maybe keep this our little secret, love?" Lena asked, hopefully.

Widowmaker's eyes narrowed as she looked the brunette over, cold and calculating. It would be so _easy_ to let slip the girl's name to her superior, but was it worth it? Wouldn't more Intel on the girl mean more enemies for her? More Talon agents sent to kill her?

Widowmaker scowled. _She is MY prey and mine alone._

The look on the woman's face made Tracer feel uneasy. _This is it then? This is the day that Talon finally acquire my name. Well it's been a good li-_

"Count yourself lucky, _Chérie._ I will not tell Talon, that would be too easy." She sauntered towards the open window of the watchtower while preparing her grappling hook. Tracer's eyes widened in surprise. Too easy? Wouldn't that be a _good_ thing? Something didn't quite add up.

"W-wait!"

Before Widowmaker could grapple out of the window, Tracer blinked towards the woman but was swiftly stopped in her path by a hand slamming into her accelerator. Panic filled her as she looked between the assassin, and the flickering blue light streaming through the fingers of the offending hand.

 _Choose your questions wisely, Lena._

"Why? Not like I'm complaining or anything, I'm just... Surprised is all."

Widowmaker's face barely gave anything away, save for the slight crease between her sharp eyebrows. The palm of her hand was still firmly planted over the warm burst of energy coming from Tracer's accelerator. Looking down at the spiky haired girl, she decided on telling her the truth, or at least part of it.

Shoving the girl away, she chuckled coldly. "Telling Talon would get you killed, foolish girl. You will not die by anyone else's hand, but mine. A spider does not share its _prey"._ And with that, she grappled out onto the nearest building, swinging herself out of sight and leaving Tracer standing dumbfounded.


	2. Chapter 2

" _A spider does not share its prey"._

Back at the Overwatch Base of Operations, Lena had spent the past few hours going through those very words in her head. Something about what Widowmaker had said to her had made her feel nervous, maybe even slightly excited, though she wasn't sure why.

So far, her night was filled with tossing and turning, over thinking and unwavering yellow eyes boring into hers every time she closed her own.

She wasn't by any means _scared_ of the blue skinned assassin, quite the opposite actually; Lena wanted to know more about her, like what was behind the expressionless facade that she'd become so accustomed to?

 _Least I know she won't shoot me, that's somethin'._

With a sigh, she got up out of bed. Not like she could sleep after what had happened anyway. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed and letting her feet hit the cold metallic floor, she rummaged around in the dark for her clothes; thanks to the light bursting from her chest, she quickly found a pair of leggings and a thick jumper to throw on.

Changing clothes was a difficult task for Tracer, she'd had to cut the middle out of all her shirts- at least if she didn't want to hide who she was. She often took her accelerator casing off, leaving a glowing blue circle on her chest and a similar one on her back. It was a practical low energy mode for certain activities such as showering, changing and sleeping easier. Lena compared it to the relief of taking a bra off after a long day. Though it had its disadvantages, she was unable to rewind or blink without it, making it essential for battle operations.

After readjusting her accelerator to fit over her clothes and chucking a pair of shoes on, she took one last sweeping look at the room before heading out the door.

It was dark, though Lena had expected it to be. Not many of the agents would be awake at this hour, or so she thought. She let the blue light from her chest illuminate the quiet hallway. Even in a safe place such as this, Lena thought it was eerie without the usual bustling around.

Not really sure what to do or where to go, Lena decided to just let her legs navigate herself quietly down the corridor; hopeful to find something to do or someone to talk to, anything to get her mind off of the French woman who constantly invaded her thoughts.

She had wondered what the assassin was doing in her downtime; was Lena on her mind at all? Was she having trouble sleeping too? Does she even sleep? What does an assassin even do when they aren't assassinating? Frowning to herself, Lena ran a hand frustratingly through her unruly hair and kept walking.

Even something as simple as running a hand through her hair made her think of the tall French woman, or rather, the cool fingers that had played with her brown tresses just a few hours previously.

 _I ain't even gonna deny that felt bloody good._

While her mind wandered, she hadn't realised that the path her legs had taken her to was towards Winston's laboratory. Her eyes lit up; she'd be able to find some information on Widowmaker in here, wouldn't she? Surely Athena had files on the Talon sniper. Without knocking, she slipped inside quietly.

It was as dark as the rest of the base, just Athena's screens lighting up the lab in a dim glow. She could see Winston's armour leaning against the far wall as well as a tire hanging from the ceiling. Unsurprisingly, she found various red peanut butter lids strewn across the floor near the desk.

Looking around, she was unable to see her scientist friend. "Wiiiiinston," She whispered. "You awake, love?"

No answer.

She sighed and made her way over to Athena's monitors, unsurprised to find them online. Plonking herself down on the tire in front of the desk, she gazed up at the many monitors lining the walls; eyes darting here and there, searching the bright screens which held hundreds of tiny icons- _seriously, how does Winston find anything on these?-_ for any signs of top secret files. Lena knew it'd be a long shot, she imagined Winston would hide them better than leave them on an open server. _Still... might as well check, yeah?_

Frowning at the screens, she tapped a few of the files that looked more promising, only to end in dead ends.

She _did_ however, find a few old Overwatch photos from back in the good ol' days. Flicking through them, she found one that made her giggle from the memories; her twenty fourth birthday with Winston, Angela, Fareeha, Hana, Lúcio, Aleksandra, Mei, and Reinhardt- All wearing party hats with smiles on their faces, and surrounding Lena who sat in front of a huge cake, which was shaped like the RAF logo on her old pilot jacket.

Lena smiled, tapping her fingers against the screen to find more.

Another she came across looked like a girls night out with Angela and Fareeha. With drinks in their hands, both of them looked completely at ease; Fareeha with her arm around Angela's shoulders and a grin on her face while the blonde leaned into her. That made Lena snort. _So gay._

 _I'll have to ask Winston the next time I see him for a few of these, they're pure gold!_

That was until one of the very last photos caught her eye.

 _Gérard's Wedding._

Lena sucked in a breath and hesitated, fingers hovering in front of the screen. She knew this would make her feel worse and yet, she couldn't help it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she touched her fingertip down to enlarge the images anyway.

 _And here you thought you couldn't feel any worse. Good job, Lena. Full marks for trying._

The old photo showed Gérard and Amélie looking happily at the camera; dressed smart with smiles on their faces, surrounded by friends and family.

She hadn't really known Gérard very well, but she still felt sadness as she looked up at his smiling face. _Poor bloke._ Lena swallowed thickly and leaned closer to get a better look, taking in all the details of the other figure next to him.

Amélie was just as beautiful as she remembered; her then shorter, dark raven hair up in intricate styled bun with odd pieces framing her face. The smile playing on her painted red lips was small but her light green eyes were warm and showed genuine happiness. _Happiness I haven't seen since,_ Lena thought sadly. Her pale skin glowed as well as the attractive light blush that fanned across her cheeks.

 _Wow, cute. I wondered what she'd look like while blushing-_

"Lena?"

She jumped a mile, blinking herself into a defensive stance before realising who had called her. So caught up with the image on the screen, she hadn't heard Winston approaching his desk.

She ran a hand tiredly over her face and slumped back down on the tire. "Jesus Christ, Winston! Can you not sneak up on me like that? Almost had a heart attack!" Clutching her chest, she felt her heart beating wildly against her hand.

A deep chuckle resonated from his throat as he sat next to his friend. "Sorry, Lena." He adjusted his glasses before looking up at the screen. A frown. "Are you looking for something?"

Lena quickly closed down her tab, removing the image from sight. She shrugged, trying her best to look cool and nonchalant. "Jus' some files on Talon agents," She picked at a stray piece of string on her jumper, not making eye contact; feeling like a child that had been caught stealing sweets. "You got any you can share?" She asked, looking up with a hopeful expression.

Winston straightened up and peered down at the young girl, knowing exactly what she was looking for. He decided to play along however, at least until she confirmed his theories.

"Hmph," He grunted, pulling himself up and making his way over to one of the cabinets that lined the wall. A key code and a fingerprint scan later, he began thumbing through the files that resided there, glancing over his shoulder briefly. "Is there anyone in particular you wanted files on?"

"Oh… um, got any on Widowmaker? Y'know, so I can learn more about my… enemy, obviously. Need to know her weaknesses and… stuff." She winced.

 _I'm officially the worst liar ever._

If Winston could tell how awkward Lena had become- _let's be honest, I'm bloody terrible at lying. There's no way he couldn't-_ he didn't show it, only pushing aside a few files to find the one he was looking for, before making his way back over to the desk and handing it over.

It was a surprisingly thin file, not as much as she'd hoped to have. She decided against asking for any more possible information however, being too eager would raise suspicion- if she hadn't already.

"Right, well… Thanks, love! I'm just gonna go do some researching so uh, I'll see you tomorrow!" Backing her way towards the door, she turned and called out a quick "g'night!" before blinking out of sight, leaving Winston to his thoughts.

Slumping down on his tire, he sighed. "Oh, Lena… I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

Back in her room and sitting cross legged on her bed, Lena pored over the file contents that she'd procured from Winston.

[REAL NAME: Amélie Lacroix]  
[AGE: 33]  
[NATIONALITY: French]  
[OCCUPATION: Assassin]

[AFFILIATION: Talon]  
[BASE OF OPERATIONS: Annecy, France]

She frowned, this was the most basic of information; information that she already knew of. The rest of the file contents included newspaper clippings of past assassinations; none of them confirmed to be the Talon sniper, however the small clues of each assassination all fit Widowmaker's style.

 _Each shot landed straight between the eyes of the victim, very precise, no mistakes. The bullets recovered from the body were sized to 14.5x114mm, a favourable ammo size for great distances-_ something she knew Widowmaker had the patience and precision for.

She was hoping for more story on how Amélie had been reconditioned. The most she knew about the whole ordeal was that the French woman had been targeted and captured because Talon was unable to get a hold of her husband, Gérard. And that Talon had indoctrinated her; turning her into a living weapon, drastically slowing her heart rate and numbing her ability to experience human emotion.

 _Numbing them, but not completely erasing them._

Lena's mind raced. She'd already proved to herself that the assassin was able to show small amounts of emotion, thanks to her own pestering. Tiny cracks were forming in Widowmaker's armour and Lena wondered if there was more waiting for her under the stoic demeanour.

She had so many questions, most that she probably wouldn't get answers to. The one that she constantly wondered about was how strong Talon's hold on Widowmaker was, even Lena could clearly see that their reconditioning was failing. Was Amélie fighting to get out? And if so, was there a way to bring her back?

She looked down at the profile pictures of the woman in question, both before and after. Even blue skinned and yellow eyed, she was beautiful. Her eyes were what held Lena's attention the most; they were emotionless and yet, Lena remembered them differently in a past time. It was difficult to say the least, seeing her old friend drastically changed in this way. She hadn't told a soul that she'd harboured a small crush on Amélie years ago, though she wondered how many people had guessed- especially Winston and Angela.

 _Whatever happens, I_ will _save her._

Little did she know, the assassin was closer than she knew.

Peering through her scope and swathed in the shadows a few blocks away, Widowmaker watched every move Tracer- no, _Lena_ made. Although her finger twitched, she held it off the trigger. This wasn't how the girl would die, it would be too boring. No challenge in shooting the pest of a girl without her blinking around as usual.

Why was she here? She wasn't even sure herself. Whatever it was, she had the sudden impulse to seek the girl out. She could rule out that information was what she wanted, he couldn't care less about how much information Talon had on their enemy, as long as it didn't hinder her own plans.

No, what Widowmaker was interested in however, were the files in the girl's lap.

 _Tiens tiens, she is reading about me. Does she hope to gain the upper hand? Oh, chérie… I always hit my mark._

The assassin could think of no other explanation other than that as to why the Overwatch agent had her files. There was a look of concentration on the girl's soft features as she read what Widowmaker could see were old newspaper clippings.

Focusing the scope to zoom closer, her eyes narrowed as she noticed the girl's facial expression morph into one of sorrow. It was an expression she wasn't used to seeing on the usually cheery Brit's face. Flicking her eyes down to see what the girl was looking at, she raised an eyebrow in surprise, seeing a photo of her own face.

An intense piercing pain shot through her head, making her stumble backwards. She struggled to breath, gasping for breaths as she clawed at her head; black spots appeared in her vision, her heart thumping loudly in her ears, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Closing her eyes tightly, the assassin clutched a hand to her chest and dropped to her knees in agony.

 _Merde this is too much, I can't-_

[MEMORY FLASHBACK]

 _She was in a room, the sun filtering in through the open balcony window, a light breeze tickled her face. Sat in front of her vanity, she admired the engagement ring that sat on her finger. There was no doubt that it was a beautiful ring, she was told that the small green gemstone matched her eyes perfectly._

 _She felt a small hand drag itself through her hair, brushing it away from her face and lightly scratching at her scalp. The contact was enough for her to close her eyes in bliss._

" _Gérard's a lucky bloke, y'know?" Lena told her, a smile in her voice._

 _She let out a short laugh, opening her eyes for a moment to look at the figure in the mirror's reflection. The sight of her spiky haired friend was a welcome one._

" _Mhm, funny. Most people call_ me _the lucky one, chérie"._

 _The scratching at her scalp stopped as two small hands were gently placed on her shoulders; the pads of Lena's thumbs stroking small circles at the back of her neck. A familiar giggle appeared next to the shell of her ear._

" _I meant what I said, love"._

[MEMORY FLASHBACK END]

She gasped, filling her lungs with the cool night air. Still curled up in pain, the assassin waited for it to subside; both hands clutching at her head, her nails digging themselves into her scalp.

Eyes snapping open, Widowmaker found herself back on the roof of the building. Blinking a few times until her vision focused, she sat up slowly and groggily, massaging her throbbing temple with her cool fingertips.

Her eyes quickly swept the area and to her relief, she found herself alone.

Breathing calmly with a hand over her chest, she worked on slowing her still accelerated heart rate, her mind racing from what she saw.

 _A memory?_

An old one at that. Tracer was without her accelerator that time, no bright light producing from her chest at all. They appeared to be friends with each other, that much was certain. Her skin had been pale ivory, as opposed to the pale blue it was now. And the ring on her finger… The one her late husband had proposed to her with. Gritting her teeth, she wondered why this particular memory had resurfaced, and what had caused it.

Staying low, she crawled over to her rifle which she'd dropped a few feet away. Bringing the scope up to her eye, she searched for the Overwatch agent.

No such luck, the girl had closed her curtains and shut the lights off. She could barely see a faint blue light protruding through the sheets of cloth that hung in front of the window.

With a sigh, Widowmaker lowered her rifle. She knew she wouldn't get any more out of tonight.

She wanted answers, and she knew her questions could only be answered by the pest that currently slept not more than two hundred yards away.

Bringing a hand up to activate the comms unit which was built into her visor, she requested a pick up at the nearest extraction point, which was a few miles away; better to be further away from the Overwatch Base, wouldn't want to stir any suspicion.

When asked if she required any 'medication', she hesitated slightly before declining.

Really, she should have had another reconditioning session. She was sure Talon would reward her for coming forward, it _had_ been quite a while since her last session after all.

But did she _want_ to become a blank slate again? After today's events with Tracer, after how _alive_ she felt? She hadn't even killed to have that feeling, the bubbly British girl had managed to worm her way in and caused that all by herself.

 _No,_ she thought. _I will have my questions answered. One way or another._


	3. Chapter 3

Just wanted to say real quick that I'm so grateful for all the reviews and favourites that this story has got so far! Honestly, I wasn't expecting much at all. Hope you like this new chapter, loves!

Quick disclaimer that I don't own Overwatch or the characters, I mean if I did, all the gays would be canon.

Lena yawned, rubbing at her tired eyes before taking a sip of her coffee. She hadn't slept peacefully; the assassin had constantly plagued her mind until the early hours of the morning, causing her brain to unsuccessfully shut down for the night. She was knackered, to say the least. She sat in the cafeteria, which was pretty empty, save for a few agents. At least the normal bustling had returned to the base, making the atmosphere feel more homely.

Groaning, she lay her face down on the cold table surface, which felt soothing to her throbbing head. She probably looked like death warmed up, felt like it too.

The Brit didn't even have the energy to look up as someone approached her table and sat down, deciding to close her eyes instead. She felt a single finger prod her head a few times before grumbling and batting it away, glancing up to see who it was.

"You look terrible. Late night, was it?" Hana's grinning face coming into view as she rapidly blinked her eyes into focus.

Lena thunked her head back down and grunted in response, not in the mood for idle chit-chat. For how normally cheery her demeanour was, she wasn't much of a morning person, especially without a decent amount of sleep. How Hana could stay up late on her live streams all night and still be perfectly functional the next day, was beyond her.

"Bad dreams? Or was there a _girl_ involved?" Lena could hear the smirk in her voice. She almost snorted at how close Hana's guessing was. She'd wished for some peace and quiet, though if she knew Hana at all, the younger girl wouldn't let it go.

Propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands, Lena opened one eye to squint at Hana as best she could.

"Sod off."

Hana laughed, giving Lena her undivided attention. That was surprising, usually there was a game console or phone in between them. "Oho so there _is_ a girl involved. I knew it!" She looked pleased with herself. "Come on then, who's the _un_ lucky girl?"

"You cheeky little- it's none of your bloody business!" Lena growled, a faint blush tainting her cheeks. She was tempted to tell the gamer exactly who she was thinking of, just to wipe the grin off her face.

 _Imagine the horror on her face, I'm almost tempted._

"Aw come on-"

"Lena, a word please?"

Angela chose the exact right moment to make her way over to their table. Lena sighed in relief, thankful to be spared the hassle of Hana's interrogation. Dragging herself to her feet, she left the table to follow Angela, pausing to turn back and pull a face at Hana before making her way through the door.

The medic didn't speak a word until she had led Lena down the hall and into her med-bay, ushering the girl in and closing the door firmly behind her.

The med-bay was bright and clean looking, various medical apparatus were stocked on the nearby shelves. _She's definitely not struggling for any medic supplies,_ Lena thought, noticing the many medical kits and sterile instruments decorating the walls and littering the counters. She noticed a rather scary looking machine hanging from the ceiling, looming over her.

Nursing the mug in her hands, Lena sat down in the nearest chair, waiting for Angela to speak first; the silence stretched on, making her fidget in her chair. Did she overhear Hana talking about a girl? Is that why she called her in here?

 _God, I hope she doesn't go into her 'mother mode'._

Angela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I overheard Hana, please don't tell me this _girl_ is who I think it is…"

 _Even worse. Bollocks._

Lena's eyes widened, no longer feeling sleep deprived. She hadn't expected Angela to already guess who it was, at the most she had expected to be given a talking to, maybe even lectured or forced to endure her advice.

Was there any point in trying to deny it? Really? Lena wasn't much good at lying, Angela knew this especially.

…

Course she'd try.

"I-I, um... who?" Lena gave her a look, feigning innocence.

 _Nailed it._

Angela's eyes narrowed at the young girl. So this is how she wanted to do this. " _Lena,_ I am serious."

She sighed. No point in hiding it, the medic knew her too well- that and she was a crap liar. Setting her mug down on the closest surface, she turned back to the older woman, not quite looking her in the eye.

"It's nothing, honest. Not like I'm boinking her, Ange."

Angela wrinkled her nose at that but didn't say anything, waiting for Lena to continue.

"I just… We talked. Y'know, when you called my comms link? I think I'm making a bit of progress- or well, she didn't try to shoot me… _this_ time." She mumbled the last part under her breath. Lena kept out the part about Widowmaker's curious ogling, thinking it was best that Angela didn't know.

The medic blinked in surprise. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't this. The fact that Widowmaker had actually talked to Lena instead of attacking was unnerving. Did she have a motive? Was she trying to gain her trust? What was the reason for the sudden turn around?

As far as she remembered, the assassin never gave anyone the chance to even come close to talking to her. A woman of few words. Always shoot first and… shoot more later. Never talking. At least, that was what Widowmaker was like, _Amélie_ was another story altogether.

"Ange?"

The doctor was pulled out of her thoughts at the call of her name, looking over the young girl. She looked so _small_ without her accelerator casing, noticing the small circle of light beaming through her shirt.

"I actually wanted to ask you something, love." Lena told her, looking down at her twisting hands that rest in her lap. Angela leaned back against the door, arms crossed and waiting for her to continue.

"Do you reckon it'd be possible that her reconditioning is failing? She seems to be showing a bit more emotion than usual, and I get the feelin' she doesn't care much for Talon, like when she heard you say my name-"

Angela's eyes widened, bringing a hand up to her mouth in shock. " _Mein gott,_ you failed to mention that she acquired your name, Lena!"

"It's alright, really! It actually looked like she was a bit reluctant to spill my name to Talon, that's what I wanted to tell you. When I asked her if they had files on us, she replied with- 'not as many as _they_ would have liked'." she recited, trying and failing to put on her best Widowmaker impression. "She said ' _they'_ , not 'we' or 'us', it's like she's not associating herself!"

It looked like Angela struggled to form words; opening and closing her mouth a few times without uttering a word. The medic wondered if the girl was really onto something, or if she was grasping at short straws. If she _was_ onto something and Widowmaker actually was reaching out to her, it could change everything. So many possibilities could arise, like breaking Talon from the _inside._

If Widowmaker wasn't however… Angela didn't want to think about what could happen to Lena. For all they knew, the assassin could be on a mission of her own. Gain the girl's trust, extract information- what if Lena became the next Talon pet project? The medic tried not to visibly shudder at the thought.

Through her silence, Lena took it as an invitation to carry on. If she could gain Angela's approval, it could prove useful.

Deciding to bite the bullet, Lena chose to be blunt with her next question.

"I know this is asking a lot, Angie… And I expect you want more proof, but if you'd be willing, I'd like your help to bring Amélie back."

The look on Angela's face… you could have sworn Lena had hit her.

"You want to do _what_?!" The medic gave her an incredulous look, as if questioning her sanity. "Lena, you cannot be serious…? We don't even know if Amélie is still-"

Lena cut her off, a look of desperation passing over her features.

"I know what I saw!" She stood up, walking up to the shocked medic and grasping at her hands. "Please believe me when I say that I _know_ she's in there somewhere, and I'm sick to death of seeing her _suffer_."

The pleading look on Lena's face made the doctor's features soften, a pitying expression taking the place of her incredulous one. A sad smile gracing her lips.

"It is not _you_ I don't trust, _Süße._ It's _her_ I don't trust."

The Brit sighed and gripped Angela's hands tighter in hers, desperately. "Put your trust in me then, doc. I can do this."

Despite the situation being one of uncertainty and mystery, Lena's voice never wavered. Confidence and determination laced through her tone, and she seemed to be firmly committed to this cause.

It almost made the medic believe her.

Almost.

"I'll… think about it. I would be grateful for some more proof and I'm making no promises. If Widowmaker is a willing participant then I shall help, but this is for _you,_ Lena."

The look on Lena's beaming face could have brightened anyone's day; her eyes widened, creasing in the corners from how widely she was smiling, a huge grin splitting her cheeks. It was a look of pure happiness.

Surging forward, Lena planted a big kiss on the medic's cheek, making a loud _mwah!_ noise. She excitedly bounced on her feet. "You won't regret this, love! You're the best!"

The medic blinked a few times in surprise, not expecting Lena to be as exuberant. She gave the girl a small smile in return.

The Brit bounded out the door, unable to control her dizzying excitement and leaving the doctor alone with her own thoughts.

Angela only hoped that Lena was right about all of this.

The flight back to the Talon Base had gone pretty smooth for Widowmaker, despite the fact that a Talon doctor was persistently badgering her. She sat in the dark cockpit, tuning out most of what her newest annoyance was talking about.

She never saw his face, as usual, most Talon operatives wore masks. Whether it was at their choosing or a formality, she wasn't sure. He wore a dark grey lab coat which hung from his scrawny frame.

At first, he started asking question about how well her conditioning was holding up, if she needed any maintenance. Even after declining, he still insisted at least on giving her a coolant, something to slow her heart down but not enough to suppress her emotions, or make her forget.

She feigned disinterest as she felt the sharp pinprick of a cold needle point pierce the skin of her neck. It wasn't painful, the assassin rarely felt pain- or rather, she was used to it. The pain of reconditioning had made any other type of pain feel like a tickle.

The assassin sighed in relief as she felt the cold liquid seep through her veins; her heart slowing down to its regular speed- almost to a stop, but not quite. She still felt the slow beat against her chest.

 _ **Thump…. Thump…... Thump.**_

After pulling the syringe from her neck and disposing it, the man checked over his supplies, as if wondering what else to give her. Before he could ask however, the French woman interrupted him.

"That will be all. _Merci, docteur."_ She stood up, sauntering her way over to a quiet corner, her hair swishing back and forth after her. Most of the time, the assassin wished to be alone; people irritated her to no end, and this man was already trying her otherwise perfect patience.

"But-"

"Do you want to know what I _really_ need, _docteur?"_

She fixed him with one of her famous glares, her cold, golden eyes narrowing and boring into his. It wasn't wise to let slip _too_ much emotion, lest Talon think that she was cracking, though the fear showing through the man's actions was worth it.

" _A kill."_

 _If only looks could kill._

"R-right." He coughed, his slimy voice sounding rather pathetic to her ears. He started hastily packing away his things and backing away slowly out the door, as if afraid he might startle a dangerous predator.

 _That's right. Courir, petite peste._

Widowmaker loved the way she could instill fear upon someone, or at least she felt a small amount of satisfaction. Even the agents at Talon were afraid of her, many going so far as to avoid her altogether. To many people, that might sound rather lonely.

Widowmaker preferred the quiet loneliness however.

She sat down on one of the many Talon stamped cargo crates, keeping her back ramrod straight. The deep thrum and rattle of the ship doing little to relax her.

With nothing else to do and to keep herself occupied, the assassin chose to look over her weapons. Keeping the maintenance up on her gadgets was something she did often, one of the few things she actually _enjoyed_ doing. It kept her busy, enough so that her mind wouldn't wander too far.

Her weapons were her most prized possessions, or rather, her _only_ possessions. She hadn't taken anything from her old life, apart from her late husband's life.

 _Gérard…_

That made her pause. The assassin remembered him vaguely, even now. She supposed he had been handsome, now that she thought about it; with his dark curly hair, the piercing blue eyes and the whiskery stubble that was considered fashionable at the time.

She loved him, or at least she _had_ loved him. As soon as Widowmaker was born, she felt nothing towards the man. Killing him was easy, even though it was her first kill.

 _Ah, my first kill._

Widowmaker remembered that particular memory vividly.

A small bullet wound right between the eyes as he slept; the blood gushing from the wound she left behind. She remembered standing at the foot of the bed, still clutching the pistol in her hands as she looked down at his still, unmoving body, still covered by the cream bed sheets which were slowly becoming blood stained.

She had stood there for quite some time, the feeling of emptiness taking over. Not quite Widowmaker but no longer Amélie either. She felt nothing, not _alive_ like she was promised, just nothing. Nothing as she looked down the barrel of the gun, which was still smoking from the shoot she had taken.

It was Ironic actually, that he'd died from the gun he'd given to Amélie for protection, the gun she'd kept a hand on underneath her pillow as she slept. The French woman hadn't even hesitated when placing a bullet through his head.

She always wondered _why_ she hadn't felt anything, but how could she? How could she feel anything after killing an unmoving target? There was no thrill, no excitement, it felt as if she had aimed at a statue.

A jolt from the ship's engine pulled her from her thoughts, a slight throbbing sensation split through her temple, making her grimace. Thinking about memories, whether hidden deep or close to the surface always tended to cause her headaches.

She often had dreams, small glimpses of her life before Talon. The assassin wrinkled her nose at the thought. She used to be weak, a pitiful, overshadowed housewife. Talon had enhanced her, made her into a super weapon, their best sniper. Widowmaker was superior in every way. She was better now, wasn't she?

… _Am I?_

She looked down at the blue skin of her arm, tracing her fingertips over the black lines that made up her tattoo.

 _Cauchemar._ A living nightmare.

Amélie was never given the option on whether or not she wanted to be altered- no, _brainwashed._ Never got given the choice on whether she wanted a normal life, or a dangerous one.

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't given many choices at all. Always told what to eat or how to dress, given the minimum amount of sustenance, just enough to be able to survive. The same thing everyday.

Her life was dull, thought it was mostly all that she remembered. How could she miss something that she had forgotten? The thrill of the kill was the only thing she looked forward to, the only thing that made her _feel._

That and…

 _Tracer_.

She scowled. The foolish girl was starting to become bothersome.

Although their meetings were spontaneous, making her look forward to each and every one. Tracer felt more like a dance partner than her enemy; they had learned each other's moves, making it almost impossible to hit the other.

Not that she would admit it, but she felt some enjoyment from the ex-pilot's company. Something like a spice added to flavour her dull life.

Widowmaker let out a small sigh.

 _Doesn't help to dwell on such things._

She procured a rota from Reaper as soon as she had arrived on the aircraft earlier. Looking down at it now, she noticed that she had a new assassination mission tomorrow, which she needed to prepare for.

With any luck, a certain Overwatch agent would be there to entertain her, and that tomorrow would bring her the answers that she needed.


End file.
